Resident Evil: Night Vale
by LeoN WiNgsteiN
Summary: Special Agent Leon Kennedy is sent to investigate the mysterious goings-on in a small southwestern town called Night Vale.
1. Prelude

**Prelude**

Leon turned on his comm device and in it saw the familiar face of his at-home agent, Hunnigan. He almost smiled. "Alright, Hunnigan," he said. "Where is it that I'm going?"

"Well, Leon, you're going to a small town in the southwestern United States - it's called Night Vale."

"Night Vale?" asked Leon. "That sounds ominous."

"It is," said Hunnigan. "This town doesn't really exist, according to our records. It's not supposed to be there."

"But it is there," said Leon.

"That's not where it stops getting weird," said Hunnigan. "Radio broadcasts have been being picked up by passersby on the nearby interstate, and what they hear is of impossible things, like angels and miniature cities. Not to mention the fact that any flights going over this area seem to be disrupted in some way, from unexplained delays to complete reroutes."

"Basically, you're telling me that weird things are going on here, and I need to find out what?"

"Basically," said Hunnigan. "The things that are going on there are unnatural, and though we don't have any evidence that could lead to hints of bioterrorism..."

"I understand," said Leon. "It's better to be safe than sorry."

"Yes," she said. "Especially after the whole incident with the Los Illuminados. A simple assignment, turned more complicated by bio-weapons..."

"I understand."

"You will be set down near the edge of the town. From there, your primary objective will be to find a man named Carlos. He was apparently sent to Night Vale to research it about a year and a half ago, but not long after he arrived there, all communications with him were cut off. From what side, I don't know."

"I'm on it," said Leon. He signed off as the helicopter began to touch down onto the hot sand of the desert. Dust swirled all around the copter as Leon jumped out and the blades began to slow. He crouched as he walked out from under the spinning blades and stood up, shielding his eyes from the dust billowing all around him. As it duded down, he saw that he was surrounded by a group of them in black outfits, almost as if they were a part of a SWAT team. The strange part of their appearance was the wrappings around their faces, like the facial shroud of a ninja, with only their eyes showing. They held large automatic guns, all pointed at Leon and his helicopter.

"Halt," said one of the ninja-police. "Sheriff's secret police."

"What?" Asked Leon.

"By orders of the sheriff, we are here to arrest you for violating the helicopter color coding regulations, passed recently by the Mayor and City Council."

"What?" Asked Leon. "No, I think you have it wrong. I'm from the US Government. We have a permit to fly here."

"We do not have any such records," said the shrouded man. We're going to ask you to come with us." Leon looked back to his helicopter, from which he could see the pilot was unsure of what to do.

"Fine," said Leon, softening his stature.

The secret police swarmed in around him and two of them roughly grabbed his hands, shoving them into his back and handcuffing them. Leon turned his head and could see the helicopter being surrounded as well. The pilot looked unsure of what to do for a moment, but as they drew their guns and pointed them at the helicopter. They began to fire as the rotor blades began to spin, and it began to take off. Leon strained his neck, trying to watch as he was hurried away by the crowd of secret police, but he could mostly just hear the explosion and feel the heat of it as the helicopter crashed into the desert sand.

The secret police around him fell to the ground by the impact of the explosion, and Leon took his opportunity. He gave a swift punch to one of the men holding him, and landed an elbow in the face of the other. The policeman that he had punched began to recover and Leon dealt him a blow to the side of his head with his boot.

There was a great deal of sand in the air, all kicked up by the explosion and the helicopter's attempted takeoff, and in the confusion and relative blindness of the secret policemen, Leon took off toward the direction of the town. He glanced over his shoulder and could see a fire blazing, and the confused policemen beginning to get their bearings again. He scrambled forward, running toward the small mass of buildings ahead of him. As he reached them, he saw a small road that led out of the town and stretched into the desert, off to a nearby canyon. He could see behind him the secret police marching back toward town, apparently no longer interested in him. He walked to the road and continued along it toward the town. He could feel the sun on his back, and he realized that he wasn't even quite sure what his mission was here, at all. He would have to start by finding Carlos.

He came upon the first couple of buildings, but not before first finding a small sign on the side of the road that said simply, "Welcome to Night Vale."


	2. Chapter One

_A/N: I use this map: welcome-to-night-vale-maps/#0 for reference when I'm talking about the different places in Night Vale._

**Chapter One**

Leon found himself walking through a housing development. All of the houses looked the same. They were arranged in little rows, with white vinyl siding and expertly trimmed hedges. It all seemed normal—eerily normal. He slipped his hand under his light jacket and felt the handgun that rest in its holster, right under his left armpit. It gave him a sense of security, even though there really seemed like there was nothing strange going on.

He passed a house in particular, and thought he saw something out of the corner of his eye. He turned to it. The house was sided with white vinyl, just like all of the other houses, and the house had perfectly manicured hedges, just like all of the other houses, but there was something about this house that was distinctly _different_. Leon took a step toward it.

"You don't want to mess with that house," came a voice from behind him. He turned, and there was a man in a tan jacket standing at the curb. He held in one hand a plain briefcase.

"Why not?" asked Leon. He looked the man over, but he didn't seem to be dangerous in any way. He didn't seem to show any signs of malicious intent.

"Because," said the man in the tan jacket, "it's not really there."

"What?" asked Leon. He turned back to the house, and he could see it, with all of its normalcy, but he could tell that there was something uncomfortable about it. He turned back to the man, and he was gone. Leon looked up and down the street, and he did not see the man. He turned back to the house, and a sudden feeling came over him, as if something deep down inside of him didn't want to go near that house. He felt an emptiness, like nothing he had previously experienced.

"Maybe not…" he muttered to himself as he walked back to the street and followed it. It went down to an intersection, and he took a left, following the street down to a large, low brick building. A sign in front of it boasted it as being the "Night Vale Elementary School." Leon zipped up his jacket, despite the heat. He didn't need to be seen with a firearm around school premises.

He tried his best to look nonchalant as he walked along the sidewalk in front of the school. He could hear some tiny voices talking and screaming, and he soon came along the chain link fence that surrounded the playground next to the school, where the kids were outside, playing during recess. He walked with his head down, quickly, but not so quickly that he would attract attention.

A ball was kicked over the fence, and it landed in the road next to Leon, a couple of yards away. He looked at the kids in the playground, and he looked at the ball in the street. He jogged over to it, picked it up, and, walking back over to the sidewalk, tossed it over to some of the kids that were congregating, waiting for it.

"Thanks, mister!" said one of the kids, waving to Leon. Leon gave a small wave back, but his eyes caught on the holster strapped around the small boy's chest. It was not unlike the holster he himself was wearing, under his jacket. Upon closer inspection, Leon could see that most of the kids on the playground had some sort of firearm with them. Some had handguns, many had some sort of holster, and some even carried submachine guns. This was not the sort of firepower that Leon was used to seeing out on the streets at all, much less carried by small children.

Leon walked away from the school as quickly as possible, and found himself underneath a split-lane highway. He found his way underneath the bridge, where the highway went over the road, and retreated underneath it to get out of the sun a little bit. He pulled out his comm device.

"Hunnigan, are you there? It's Leon, and I think you're going to want to get a load of this." He looked at the device, and punched in a few commands, but his at-home partner didn't seem to be showing up on the small screen. "Hunnigan," he said. "Hunnigan, can you hear me?"

He punched in a few more commands and tried again. "Hunnigan. Are you there?" He pressed another button, and he glanced at the top of the screen. There seemed to be no reception for his device. The bridge was blocking it, of course, how could he not have thought of that?

Leon crept out from under the bridge and chastised himself for panicking over the small issue of the communication disconnect. He flipped on his comm device again, once he was out in the hot desert sun.

"Hunnigan, are you there? Hunnigan, come in." He did not see her face, but he received some static, and then a man's voice began to speak through the device.

"… and the Sheriff's Secret Police declined to comment on what sort of person this intruder was, but they insisted that he was armed and maybe dangerous. Probably. They don't know. What, is it their job, all of a sudden, to keep tabs on who's dangerous and who's not? Do that yourself, you lazy bum. This stranger, wanted now for violating the Helicopter Color Coding regulations, recently passed by the city council and Mayor Pamela Winchell, and for causing an aerial explosion on a Tuesday. I for one _welcome_ this stranger, and am interested to see how he plans to invigorate our humble town's economy. And I thank him for choosing our sunny utopia over that festering, rotting sore that is our neighbor, _Desert Bluffs_."

Leon pressed some buttons, and tried to communicate with Hunnigan via a different frequency. No matter what he tried, he was unable to receive anything but this one man's voice, coming through his comm device. He wasn't able to make any sort of calls outward, though the cell network or through the radio waves.

"Though I can't be sure what sort of intentions our newcomer might have for our town, I can say, with all honesty, that we could all use a look at the weather…"

The man's voice gave way to a song, mainly two guitars playing, one taking the rhythm, the other taking the main part, composing a little melody. "Weird…" said Leon, adjusting his comm device some more, but unable to get anything other than the song to come through it.

He stood up and climbed up the incline to the side of the split-lane highway, and gazed out over the town. He could see the downtown to the east, with different fast food restaurants and chain stores' lights casting a neon glow, even during the hot daytime. To the west was the elementary school and another building, which Leon could only guess could be the high school, with a sports field out back of it. To the south was the housing development that he had passed through earlier, and another neighborhood. To his north, he could see a building with a tall radio tower rising from it. The tower was topped with a glowing purple light.

Leon looked back at his comm device. If he was able to rig it up through the communication grid at that radio tower, he might be able to get a signal out to Hunnigan to report on what he was finding in this strange town. He slipped the comm device into his pocket and descended the slope again, back to the road. He kept a mental map of what he had seen from the hill in his head, and started north, to the radio station.


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

The radio station, which had seemed smaller from afar, loomed in front of Leon. It was a large gray building, with the broadcasting tower reaching out high above it. The purple light blinked at the top of it, casting a hue around it, even in the hot sun that beat down on the town.

A sign next to the door boasted "Night Vale Community Radio," and in smaller lettering, as if in ammendum, "A Division of Strexcorp," and a Smart Car with the radio station's name was parked out front. It had all sorts of antennae coming from the back side of it, for broadcasting on the go. Leon walked up the couple of steps to the door of the radio station, but then he noticed something. The radio station had its signs, both on the building and on the car, but neither of the signs boasted a radio frequency that they could be heard on. He figured it was nothing, that the people in this town just knew the frequency of their radio station, and he opened the door.

The inside of the radio station was very dark, and Leon's eyes had to take a minute to adjust to the loss of light. Once they did adjust, he could see a long, narrow hallway stretching out in front of him. He crept down it quietly, and found that it was notably cooler in the building than it was outside.

There were a few unlabeled wooden doors that were on both sides of the hallway, and when Leon tried opening them, he found that they were locked. One of them held a small combination lock underneath the door handle, though the rest of them held plain keyholes. He walked to the end of the hallway, and found himself facing a door that was slightly more ornate than the other, plain doors that were throughout the hallway. A small plaque on the door indicated that it was the office of the station management. Leon tried the doorknob, but found that this door, too, was locked.

Leon let out a sigh of frustration, and turned to the door directly to the right of the station management's door, on the right side of the hallway. He was sure that it would be locked, too, just like the rest of the doors, but to his surprise, it swung open easily. He stepped inside only to find it was even darker in there. He groped the wall next to the door for a light switch until he found one, and flipped it on.

The room was illuminated by a single ornate lamp on a small table at the opposite wall. The rest of the room was not like anything Leon would have expected to find inside of a radio station. It was a very old, very ornate living room. There was a very painstakingly upholstered couch that stood on clawed feet, an overstuffed straight-backed chair, and a once-polished oval coffee table. A fireplace was against the back wall, and a couple of bookshelves were placed against the walls in different parts of the room. A couple of paintings, in large gold frames hung on the walls, all with paintings in a dark reddish tone.

It took Leon a moment before he realized what bothered him about this room, other than the fact that it seemed very out of place in a radio station: there was no dust. The entire room was, although it did seem unused and old, immaculately clean. Leon walked slowly around the room, and inspected the furniture. It all seemed to be in good shape, apart from its age. He turned to the nearest painting on the wall.

The painting seemed to be a bloody religious painting, with the image of a cross superimposed in the background. In the foreground, a mass of people were bludgeoning a man with rocks and spears. The man had two heads, and eyes not only on his head, but on his chest, arms, and the rest of his body. A couple of the eyes seemed to blink at him, and Leon took a step back. He turned away from the painting, and went to the fireplace instead.

The hearth was completely clean, with no indication that a fire had been made there in a very long time. There was nothing on the mantle of the fireplace, but above it was a large portrait of not someone, but _something_. It was a large, dark mass, with tentacles and limbs that seemed to sprout out of nowhere in particular. In the center of the being was a large purple eye, an eye that seemed to be the same color as the light that lit up the top of the broadcasting tower. The monster in the portrait must have had some meaning to the people of the radio station, for it to have such a renowned place in the room, over the fireplace.

Upon closer inspection, Leon could see that the eye was not simply an eye. The pupil, a round black dot in the center of the purple ellipse, was raised slightly above the rest of the painting. This either meant that there was a bit of pain that stuck there in a lump when the painting was created, or…

"It's a button," Leon muttered to himself. He pushed his thumb against it, and felt it depress, and something behind it click. The fireplace lit up in flames, and Leon took a startled step backward.

It was a gas stove, without any sort of protection around it. It must have been installed a while ago, for it to not have any sort of enclosure for safety. Leon could feel the room heating up already, and he turned around. The light of the fire danced off of the glossy surfaces of the other paintings in the room, and Leon returned to the painting of the man underneath the cross. The eyes on his body seemed to glint in the light, and Leon could now see red eyes on the faces of the attackers.

Leon went on to look at another of the paintings, and saw that there was a crowd in this one, too. It seemed to be citizens of an early Night Vale or a similar desert town, gathered at some sort of town meeting. Almost every single person in the picture seemed angry, and the backdrop to the picture was an almost comic portrayal of a gold town in the old West. A church stood in the back of the painting, two gold crosses adorning its steeple.

Leon decided that, as he was already looking at the paintings, that he would check out the last one in the room. There was a smaller painting with a painting of a farm scene, in what could have been a New England valley. There were a couple of animals in the scene, but all of them seemed to be turned away. There was an enclosure around the animals, penning them in. Upon closer inspection, Leon could see that the fence was actually made up of three crosses, with ropes or chains between them. The crosses were illuminated by the flickering fire.

Leon took a step back and looked at the paintings. He looked around the edges for any sort of hidden switches, but he could find none. He got down on his hands and knees and checked underneath the furniture—there was no trapdoor or hidden anything. He looked again at the paintings, and except for the creepy eyes that seemed to blink in the pictures, he could really tell nothing that was out of place. And yet, why would this room be here, be like this?

Then, he thought of the stories that Claire had told him, of the tricks and traps that she had gone through on Rockfort Island. The crazy man that ran the prison had laid traps and set up puzzles inside of his mansion, and that was the only way to find the way through it. And Chris had experienced the same thing, back at the Spencer Mansion, before the Raccoon City catastrophe. This could be like that—there could be a hidden puzzle that lay directly in front of his eyes.

Leon thought back to the doors in the hallway. They had required keys, and he was, so far, unable to find one. But not all of them had required keys—one of them had a combination, with three spots for numbers to be entered. Since there was really nothing in the hallway, and the door to the living room that he was currently in seemed to be the only one unlocked, he had to guess that the clues must be in here.

He looked to the paintings on the wall, and the eyes in the first painting blinked at him again. A chill ran down his spine, despite the fire going in the room. That was when it hit him.

Leon walked up to the painting and quickly counted the eyes that were on the many-eyed man who was being beaten. He moved to the next painting and counted the eyes in the angry mob of people. There were no eyes in the third painting, as the animals were facing away from the frame.

He went back out into the hallway, and down to the door with the combination lock. He thumbed in the numbers, the number of crosses in each picture telling him the order in which they should go. 9-7-0. He took a breath, felt for his gun in its holster, to make sure that he had it ready, just in case, and turned the doorknob. He could feel it click as the lock opened, and the door swung inward.


	4. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

Leon found himself in a small hallway, and he crept down it softly. There was a worn rug beneath his feet, and the walls were covered with plain wood paneling. He found two doors in the hallway. He tried the first one, and found himself in a supply closet. He looked around, and didn't find much. There were some stacks of paper, some pamphlets from some sort of community event, some cleaning solution, and a small door key. Leon took the key. It was ordinary, just like any other sort of key that might be used to open any door. He slipped it into his pocket and stepped out of the closet. He went to the other door, and found that it was locked. He tried the key, but found that it did not fit the lock.

Leon returned to the original entrance hallway and tried the key in the first door, but to no avail. He tried the second to the same effect. He went to the door labeled "Station Management," but he wasn't able to open that one, either. This left one more locked door, and he found that the key fit. He pushed the door, and it swung open easily. He found himself in another short hallway, and he walked into it. It had the same type of overused rug running along it, but it was mainly illuminated by a single red light next to another sign that said "ON AIR."

There was one door in the hallway, and it was all the way at the end. Leon walked toward it and as he did, he found himself passing by a window that looked in upon a radio soundboard. It had controls lit up along it, and was quite obviously running during the ongoing program. On the other side of these controls was a small room with a wooden desk. The wooden desk supported only a microphone and a coffee mug. Behind the desk was a blond man, probably a bit shorter than Leon, wearing a sweater vest and a loose tie. He saw Leon looking at him, and they made eye contact through the glass. The man inside continued to speak, though Leon could not hear it through the soundproofed room.

He contemplated whether or not he should enter the room. He wanted to be able to access the radio tower as quickly as possible to get in contact with Hunnigan and see what exactly was going on, but he wasn't sure if he should interrupt the broadcast. He decided that he needed to worry about the mission before anything else, and he went in through the door, which gave up no resistance when he turned the knob.

"…and now he seems to have entered the room. I'm not sure what this stranger plans to do here, or what he wants with me, but I'll be sure to find out." Leon walked to the desk and pressed the button at the base of the mic that muted it.

"My name is Leon S. Kennedy. I'm a special agent with the U.S. Government, and I need access to your communications equipment." He looked the man in the eye, who looked startled, but not threatened. "And I don't want anyone else knowing that I'm here. There's a hostile police force that intends to stop me from completing my mission."

"And what might your mission be?" asked the radio man. He leaned forward toward Leon inquisitively.

"I'm looking for a man named Carlos who was sent to this town a little over a year ago to study the strange goings-on here. We haven't heard from him since he's gotten here. Do you know him?"  
"Know him?" asked the man behind the desk. "I'm his boyfriend."

Leon didn't know how to reply to that. He dropped his finger from the mute button and the small light at the base of the mic lit up red again. "Listeners," said the man behind the desk, "it seems that I'm needed elsewhere, and it is that time of day that beckons ever closer the end of our time together. So, with all of the most caring emotions allowed by recent town mandates, I wish you the most profitable of futures. And, as always, good night, Night Vale. Good night."

The man pressed a button on the side of the microphone and stood up. "My name is Cecil Palmer, Mr. Kennedy. I host the community radio show here in Night Vale. I was just going to meet Carlos after my show anyway. I guess I'll just bring you along."

"Why didn't you report me to the Secret Police?" asked Leon, wary of the man's helpfulness.

"Any coworker of Carlos's is a coworker of mine," said Cecil. "And besides, you haven't done anything that seems to warrant a report to the Sheriff's Secret Police yet, I think… at least according to the most recent bylaws…"

"Thank you," said Leon. He figured that with Cecil's cooperation, he could use the radio station's equipment to make contact with Hunnigan _after_ he was able to make contact with Carlos. Then, he could get down to the bottom of what was making this whole town so strange. He followed Cecil quietly out the door.


	5. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

"Oh, you're going to love Carlos," said Cecil, as he piloted the Smart Car down the apparently empty street. Leon felt cramped in the passenger seat. "He's _perfect_. I mean, he's got his little things, but don't we all?"

Leon looked at the man, who had a large grin plastered across his face. He had been talking almost nonstop since they had left the radio station, and Leon had been trying to absorb most of what he had been saying. "We sure do," he said.

"He's probably working on some science right now," said Cecil. "He's always working on that science of his—testing things, experimenting on things. He's quite the intellectual. And he barely ever has any disastrous accidents, so that makes him the top scientist in all of Night Vale. I'd like to see Desert Bluffs do him better. I don't think so!"

"Was that just two libraries?" asked Leon.

"Yeah," said Carlos. "The one that is slightly more to the west is the public library. The other one is the private library."

"Why do you have two libraries right next to each other?" asked Leon. "That doesn't make much sense, does it?"

"Oh, I don't have two libraries," said Cecil. "The private library belongs to Marcus Vansten. He's the richest guy in town—so, of course, he's also the most benevolent."

"I'm not sure that's how that correlation works," said Leon.

"No, it is," said Cecil, as he turned the corner. "And by the way, we're here."

Leon stepped out of the tiny car to look at what seemed to be a totally normal duplex apartment building, set not too far back from the street. There was a small porch on the front, and two doors, one for 20A, and one for 20B. There were two mailboxes next to the doors, though only one held a label. There didn't seem to be a car in the driveway, but there was a separate garage at the end of it with its doors closed. Leon followed Cecil to the porch.

Cecil unlocked the door to 20A and slipped the key into his pocket, and Leon followed him inside. It was the downstairs apartment, and once they were out of the entranceway, Leon could immediately tell that this was not a normal apartment.

There was scientific equipment everywhere. On the large table in the middle of the room stood beakers and vials, against the walls were setups of scientific machinery. A couple of computers were set up on a desk at the far side of the room. Cecil strode past all of this and into the kitchen beyond, where the small table seemed to be lumped high with a few instruments and beakers, and a pile of paperwork and notebooks. A man in a white lab coat was hunched over something at the counter.

"Carlos!" sang Cecil, a fluctuation of tone in his voice showing the affection that he had for the man. The man in the white jacket spun around, surprised but not unhappy about it. His black rimmed glasses rested at the touch of gray above his ears, and his mouth stretched into a smile as he embraced Cecil.

"I was just working on some lunch," said Carlos, indicating the sandwich he had been working on. "I was in the process of testing some of the bark taken from a tree in the woods on the edge of town, but the tests were going nowhere, and I suddenly realized it was four o'clock! I know it's late, but I realized how hungry I was!"

It was at this point that he noticed Leon for the first time. He took a step back toward the counter. "And who is your friend, Cecil?" he asked.

"Oh!" said Cecil, as if he'd almost forgotten about Leon, while he was staring into the eyes of his beau. "This is Leon Kennedy. He's here from the World Government to talk to you."

"I'm from the U.S. Government," said Leon. "But yes, Carlos, I was sent here to make sure that you were alright. You've been missing for about a year now. I've been sent to find out what's been going on around here."

"Well," said Carlos, "good luck."

"What do you mean?" asked Leon.

"Things around here are strange," said Carlos. "And that's why I'm not too surprised that the transmissions I've been making over the past year with the U.S. Government haven't been going through."

"What?" asked Leon.

"I've been in constant contact, or so I thought, with some higher-ups in Washington since I got here," said Carlos. "I was sent here to study meteorological anomalies and potential side effects from former nuclear testing nearby. Yet, what I've found here is much more interesting than any of that."

"What do you mean?" asked Leon. He leaned against the kitchen table.

"I mean, have you seen any strange things in this town?" asked Carlos. "Anything that you wouldn't really expect to find anywhere else?"

Leon thought back to the children with weapons on the playground. He thought back to the house that was both there and not there at the same time. He remembered the man in the tan jacket who was as ominous as possible, though he couldn't remember him exactly. He remembered the way that the only reception he could get was the single radio station. He remembered the radio station, with its strange puzzles to just get into the recording room.

"A little strange," admitted Leon, "though I've dealt with stranger."

"That's because you've barely scratched the surface," said Carlos. "You probably want to make contact with your commanders, and see what to do next."

"That's what I went to the radio station for in the first place," said Leon. "That's what I was trying to do when I met Cecil."

"He interrupted my broadcast," said Cecil, finally able to break into the conversation. "It's okay, of course, I'm happy to have him. But he _was_ there, and he _did_ do it."

"Well," said Carlos, "I just need to let you know right now, Mr. Kennedy, that I don't plan on leaving Night Vale any time soon. There is just too much that is so scientifically fascinating here—it's a goldmine of discovery! But I would like to make contact—_real _contact—with my higher-ups."

"Back to the radio station, then?" asked Leon. "It's blocking my signals now, and I only think we'll be able to get out and into the rest of the world with any sort of signal is through there."

"Let's go," said Carlos. "Cecil, is that okay?"

"Of course!" said Cecil. "We'll get it going in no time!"

"Great, then we're off," said Carlos, as he led the other two men out the door, leaving his sandwich uneaten on the counter.


	6. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

The three men turned left onto the street of the radio station, but there was a blockade across the road. Leon was in the miniscule backseat of the Smart Car, but he ducked down as far as he could. Carlos threw his jacket over him, providing him just a tiny bit more of anonymity, and Cecil pulled to a stop.

"Hello, sir," he said cheerily to the man holding the large gun and wearing heavy riot body armor.

"This road is blocked off by orders of the World Government," said the man. "Turn your vehicle around and be on your way."

"Alright!" said Cecil. "Have a great barricade!" He turned the car around and began off in the i4

"What do we do now?" asked Leon, emerging from under Carlos's coat.

"I don't know," said Carlos. "The World Government's usually only involved if something really big is going down, otherwise the Sheriff's Secret Police would be all over it."

"Yeah," said Cecil, turning back to speak to Leon." "We'd best just wait the blockade out until—"

"Cecil!" exclaimed Carlos. Cecil whipped his head around and saw the girl in the road ahead of them. He screamed and jerked the wheel sharply to the left. The Smart Car missed the girl, but the momentum tilted it over onto its side, to the grass past the curb.

"Eurgh…" groaned Cecil, rubbing his head. Carlos was draped over him, and he carefully pushed himself back into his own seat and undid the seat belt. He maneuvered to the ground and began to work on Cecil's belt.

"Are you both okay?" he asked. Some blood dripped down his arm as he pulled Cecil upright.

Leon pulled himself up, cracking his neck to the left and right as he did. He had sustained no major injuries. "I'm fine," he said. "I'm just happy _I_ didn't crash the car for once."

"I'm fine," said Cecil. "My head, though…" he said, putting his fingers to his forehead.

"Let's get out of this lunchbox," said Leon, pushing open the passenger side door and pulling himself up through it. Carlos helped Cecil to his feet, and Leon helped him up. He then pulled Carlos up as well, and all three stood on the grass next to the wrecked Smart Car.

Carlos began performing a concussion check on Cecil, and Leon turned back to the street. The girl that they had swerved to avoid was crouched behind a small shrub on the opposite side of the street, using binoculars to stare at the blockade a couple of blocks away.

"Who's that?" asked Leon. Carlos joined him on the sidewalk, followed by Cecil.

"That's Tamika Flynn!" said Carlos.

"She's missing!" said Cecil, straightening his glasses. "After she went rogue from the summer reading program…"

"What?" asked Leon. "What do you mean, she escaped from the Summer Reading Program? Do kids here hate reading that much?"

"It's not like that, Leon," said Carlos. "Actually, when the people here in Night Vale talk about libraries, and librarians, and all of that, they're really talking about something much different than you'd expect."

"I'm pretty much a seasoned guy," said Leon. "I have a feeling that not much you'll throw at me will surprise me."

"The librarians are crazed, mutated maniacs that regularly attack anyone who tries to use the public library," said Carlos.

"Those zany librarians," said Cecil, chuckling.

"About a year ago, the kids who were taken hostage as a part of the Summer Reading Program busted their way out of there, and they haven't been the same since the incident."

"Wait…" said Leon. "Are we talking about a biohazard?"

"I'm not sure," said Carlos. "I've never gotten close enough to one of the librarians to tell if they are bio-organic weapons."

"But Tamika would have," said Leon. "And I need to find out more. Biohazards are serious business—I've dealt with them before. And you said there were others?"

"Oh, yes," said Cecil. "There's a bunch of them, the missing children. I have a list back at the radio station, and the management has me read their names every so often, to make sure that folks out there keep their eyes out for any kids that might be wandering around."

"I'm going to talk to her," said Leon.

"Wait, I'm not sure if that's the best—"

Cecil trailed off as Leon walked across the street to the girl in the bushes, who had not yet seemed to have noticed the wrecked car that had swerved to avoid her.

"Hello," said Leon. "Tamika, is it? My name is—"

"Shut up and get down," replied the girl. "If I get caught by these bozos, I'm making sure that you are spread across the street farther than that damn barricade." Leon now noticed the large hunting knife that she held in her hand, and the even larger assault rifle that laid across her lap. He crouched down to his haunches.

"I hear that you've been inside of the library," said Leon.

Tamika turned to him, with an incredulous expression spread across her hardened face. Leon wouldn't have believed, had he not already known, that she was only thirteen or so.

"Of course I was in the library," said Tamika. "I was a part of the Summer Reading Program. That idiot blabs about it on the radio all the time. What, have you been living under a rock or something?"

"No," said Leon, "I've actually been on the move quite a bit. I haven't really gotten an opportunity to listen to local radio, though."

Tamika wasn't paying attention to him. She had her eyes trained on the barricade. "Look, I'd love to stay and chat, but I have more important things to deal with right now," she said. She stood and hauled herself over the bush in one even motion and began running over to the barricade. Cecil and Carlos rushed across the street to Leon.

"What do you think you're doing?" asked Cecil, waving his arms as he talked. "That's Tamika Flynn! That's dangerous!"

"Leon was about to reply when a scream and some gunshots came from down the street. The three men peeked over the bushes to see the World Government agents at the barricade all collapsed at their posts, slain by the small body that was running away from them toward the radio station.

"What the hell?" exclaimed Leon. "She just killed those men!"

"She could've killed you, too," said Cecil. "Count yourself lucky."

"I don't think you understand the dynamic here," said Carlos. "I'm not saying that it's okay to just kill people, but things are different here than anywhere else in the world."

"What do we do?" asked Leon. "Should we call the police?" He was unsure, based on Cecil and Carlos's reactions, of what the best plan of action would be.

"The Sheriff's Secret Police has probably been watching the whole time," said Cecil. "Besides, aren't they after you right now, for violating the new helicopter color identification ordinance? Perhaps it would be best not to call any extra attention to yourself."

"Then, let's go to the radio station," said Leon. "The barricade's gone now, though the means weren't the best." He shed his jacket and began walking back across the street. "I guess there's really no need to conceal my weapon at this point, and it's too hot to be wearing this, anyway." He draped the jacket over the car. "We'll come back for this as soon as I can report back to my at-home agent."

"I think I can reroute the radio station's signals to patch you through," said Carlos. "Let's go." Cecil nodded, and the three of them walked through the destruction caused by the thirteen year old survivor of the Summer Reading Program, toward the radio station.


End file.
